


Red

by thinlizzy2



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexism/Racism, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mei Hsin Hui may not have been naturally inclined to be a mother, but her choices run deep in her daughter's veins.</p><p>Three possible scenes from the childhood and youth of Melinda Qiaolian May.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beatrice_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatrice_Otter/gifts).



There is blood on her daughter's hands. It says quite a bit about her training that Mei Hsin Hui's first reaction to the sight – miniscule flecks of dried-up redness caked at the edges of her daughter's fingernails – is to draw back, go cold, assess the risk in her situation. 

Preserve herself at all costs. 

It only lasts a second, of course, and then her brain catches up with her instincts. Qiaolian is an infant, a _newborn_ even; of course there is no danger. The nurses simply hadn't washed her as thoroughly as they should have. The blood was only a remnant of her birth, proof of her having survived the painful and perilous process of becoming a human being. 

Hsin Hui knows this, on a logical level. 

Still, perhaps she is a touch rougher than she needs to be as she scoops her daughter up, spitting into a tissue to scrub the stains away. Qiaolian waves her arms in distress, scrunching up her tiny face in protest at the rough handling. Hsin Hui rocks her, deliberately and unnaturally gentle, making her best attempt at soft cooing noises. It's no use. Her child knows that she is a fraud – a mother in her body but not in her nature - and she will not be comforted. The wail that Qiaolian lets out is startlingly loud in comparison to her size and Hsin Hui – a woman who has faced down assassins and warlords without batting an eyelash – begins to feel the first flickerings of panic. 

This is another instinct she will need to learn to suppress: the need to silence screaming by any means necessary. Against her will, her grip grows tighter. Horrified, she forces her fingers to relax. 

Mu En rushes in, surprisingly quickly considering the fact that she'd left him sleeping upstairs. Hsin Hui remembers how her aunt once told her that over time some parents develop new senses, innate abilities to know when their little ones are distressed even if they are separated by great distances. 

The baby is only eighteen hours old. Her husband must be some sort of prodigy at this. He has many gifts, but the truth is that she is used to being the far more talented one of the pair. The only thing he is naturally better at than her is loving. 

She has always envied him that skill, but never more so than in this moment. 

Mu En assumes possession of his daughter, cuddling her against his chest as though he had been formed for no other purpose than to give her a warm, safe wall of protection. Qiaolian settles almost instantly, her cries giving way to whimpers that fade into soft gurgles. Mu En whispers softly to the baby and looks up at his wife. With all that he is, he is inviting her to share in the moment. 

The warmth that usually feels when looking at her husband – him and only him – refuses to come now that they are a family. She is exhausted, she tells herself. It's all so new. "Her hands", she murmers, her own hands forming fists. "Deal with her hands." 

She sees him look, studying those ten perfect fingers each with a white-tipped little nail with a confused smile. Then she sees him understand. His smile fades. 

The truth of the moment falls between them like a curtain. Even before she turns to go, she feels like she has already left the two of them alone.


	2. The Girl

There has been blood on her daughter's hands. As soon as the girl walks in the door, Hsin Hui knows it for a fact. It's the same way that she knows when a suspect is lying to her or that a target is going to die before surrendering. It doesn't matter that Qiaolian's hands are clean – suspiciously clean in fact, freshly scrubbed and smelling of cheap school restroom soap – her mother can sense the recent violence hovering around her daughter like a swarm of insects. Qiaolian flinches and tugs at her left sleeve, and her mother falls upon that show of weakness. Dragging the girl into the light, she finds what she already knew was there, the red droplet on the white cuff of her innocent-seeming schoolgirl blouse. 

" _Again?_ " Hsin Hui hisses, disappointment crashing over her. It is followed quickly by rage. Why does this child continue to disobey her? "You know what your principal said!" 

He had said that if Qiaolian continued to get into fights then they would need to re-evaluate whether or not they could continue to accommodate her at the school. That was how the man spoke, needlessly long-winded, as if he thought Hsin Hui was some stupid peasant woman that he could intimidate with overlong English. She had wanted to inform him that she spoke seven languages to native standard. That she could think of sixteen easy ways to kill him using only the stationary on his desk. But she had held her tongue, determined to follow through on her vow of giving Qiaolian a real education and a shot at a real life, and had promised to manage her daughter. 

And now the girl had made that promise hollow. 

She fights the urge to shake Qiaolian. "You want to get kicked out of that school? Is that what you're after? That will make three, and I assume you remember what that means. Nowhere else will take you. And then your only choice will be-" 

She cuts herself off. _And then your only choice will be to end up like me._ That was what she had planned to say, and the words still hang in the air between them. Hsin Hui is not afraid of much, but she's scared to finish that sentence. 

She is terrified of confirming what she has suspected for years: that her daughter wants to lead a life like just hers. 

She takes a deep breath and tries again. "Listen to me, Qiaolian-" 

" _Melinda._ " The girl petulantly interrupts her, sounding, just for a second, like a normal teenager. 

The new names had been supposed to symbolize their new start, back when she thought she could walk away from being an agent. She'd called herself Helen then. It had lasted six months before she'd broken down and called her old director from their own home phone, confessing everything and prepared to accept all the consequences. He'd known where she was, of course; he'd been waiting for her call.

Neither her husband or her daughter have forgiven her that; she is sure of it. And neither of them have retaken their real names. They are William and Melinda May now; even the spelling is different. People she barely knows. 

"Tell me, Melinda." She tries to make her voice soft and safe. "Why does this keep happening?" 

Her daughter blinks at the concession of her name. Perhaps that's what causes her to crack. 

She names a boy, turns red and looks away she mumbles his crime. Hsin Hui doesn't hear all of it, but she gets the last few words. _...asked me if it really goes sideways._

Moments later she is in the car, speeding towards the school. A little part of her brain whispers that she could solve this with her fists, her feet, the swipe of a blade. She forces it back. She has far worse in mind for this boy. 

She will come down on him with all the force of an enraged mother.


	3. The Agent

There is blood on her daughter's hands. Not just on her hands either - her sleeves are coated to the shoulders and the rest of her clothes are generously splattered. There is a dangerously dark and thick splotch on her front, but the very fact that she's still breathing lets Hsin Hui know that little if any of that is her daughter's. The blood has mostly dried by now, a congealed red crust that's beginning to crack and flake, but there are still some wet patches. The sheer amount of it is startling, and that's only what's left of what got on her. 

Melinda has been at war tonight. 

Her maternal side wants to scold her child. _You need to get cleaned up before you leave the site of a mission. What if someone saw you at a red light? What if the police were to pull you over for some reason?_ She is aware that this is a bizarre thing for the mother in her to be concerned with, but Hsin Hui has long accepted that she is what she is. 

It is with no small amount of effort that she remains silent. Nothing that she could say to her daughter would sink in tonight. There will be time enough in the morning to debrief, go over the mission, remind her of protocols. For now, it is enough to lead Melinda into the washroom, sit her down on the side of the bath and begin the long process of cleaning the death off of her. 

Melinda submits to her ministrations like the docile girl she never was. Hsin Hui shudders when she sees the rips and tears on Melinda's knuckles. Other people's blood and open cuts in her child's skin – did Melinda lose her gloves somewhere or merely forget to put them on before the fight? Or is she punishing herself for what she has done by taking a ridiculous risk? Hsin Hui draws a deep breath and wills herself into calmness. _In the morning._

By the time the sun begins to rise there is a pile of blood-stained towels in the corner of the bathroom and the pinkish water that Melinda is sitting in is cooling rapidly. Hsin Hui pulls the plug from the bath, wraps Melinda in a terrycloth robe and leads her to the bedroom. 

She is ridiculously glad that she followed the baffling impulse to change the sheets while Melinda was away. The idea of putting her daughter into a stale bed at this particular moment turns her stomach. 

She was prepared to carry Melinda into the bedroom, but the newly minted agent is surprisingly sturdy on her feet. Her knees hold her weight; aside from an occasional twitch, her hands are still. Hsin Hui has seen this before, in other new recruits. It means that Melinda will recover, come to terms with the realities of her chosen career, accept more missions. In time, she may well become an excellent agent. 

Hsin Hui should be happy about that. She knows it. 

Melinda settles into the bed and closes her eyes. This is another good sign. The ones who cannot cope are always terrified of sleep. Welcoming the chance to rest after a night of carnage is what passes for healthy in their world. 

Hsin Hui dims the lights and heads for the door. She knows that she herself will not sleep tonight, but perhaps some meditation will help soothe her mind. At the very least, it may relieve the pressure of the tight fist forming around her heart. 

Her hand is on the doorknob when Melinda speaks for the first time that evening. Her voice is a reedy whisper. "No innocents, Mama." 

Hsin Hui lets out a shuddering sob. Relief crashes over her like a breaking wave. For a moment, she considers turning around, climbing into the bed and holding her daughter until she falls asleep. She can practically feel the reassuring warmth of her body, the vital pulse of her heartbeat. 

Instead she merely nods. "Well done, Agent May." Then she steps into the hallway and closes the door behind her, hoping that she has said enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Beatrice_Otter for the MCU Ladies Fanwork Exchange.


End file.
